


The Portrait

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 3rd Age - The Stewards, Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 18:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3780588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yule celebrations were difficult for the Steward and his two sons.</p><p>What was Boromir's gift - the choice is yours!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Portrait

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

**_The Portrait_**  
  
"What is your plan, brother?" Faramir wondered aloud as Boromir strode purposefully down through the tunnel and out onto the Sixth Level.  
  
"I am not sure. I have a thought, but cannot be certain that what I consider can be done."  
  
He walked in silence again and Faramir had to content himself with that, noting only that his brother held a piece of paper in his hand.  
  
They stopped at the Second Level. Boromir looked towards his left, shook his head and strode towards the right. About four stalls further along the street, he stopped. Pointing, he smiled. "This is the place. Now, to find what I hope for." He walked into a small gallery. Paintings covered the walls, paintings of Minas Tirith, Osgiliath, Ithilien's vast forests, Dol Amroth – Faramir gasped at the skill of the painter. "No," Boromir moaned quietly. "This will not do." He quickly left the shop and turned right again. Faramir followed, nonplussed.  
  
"Ah, mayhap we have found it." He walked into another shop and, once again, Faramir noted they were in a gallery. This time, portraits hung upon the tall walls.  
  
Tears filled his eyes. At last he understood Boromir's Yule gift for their father.


End file.
